


Her Wish, His Heart and The One Who Warmed It Cold

by weirdcatperson33



Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling (probably), F/M, Fluff (Later), Hurt/Comfort, Lapse of Sanity, Lonliness, M/M, Morals, Sadness, Slow Burn, touch starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23457004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdcatperson33/pseuds/weirdcatperson33
Summary: His homeland is gone, and it’s all his fault. That’s what it says, anyway. But it did this, so why does it hurt so much?In which the Man In The Moon has more contact with spirits, and helps a little more.
Relationships: Jack Frost/Kozmotis Pitchiner, Jack Frost/Pitch Black, Past Kozmotis Pitchiner/OC (Seraphina’s Mom)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

Kozmotis stood, stock still. The whispers grew ever louder, filling his mind with doubts. The doors behind them seemed weighted, _heavy_ , and he was so, _so_ alone. _But no,_ he thought, smiling a soft, hesitant smile.

He pulled out the locket, _his locket,_ and his eyes watered. This was what he was doing this for. Why he was in this wretched place. His little girl.

The golden, gleaming locket was positively _glowing_ , even here, as if the fiery stars themselves had kissed it. And within was his daughter—a picture at least—when she was merely a newborn. A small, pink face, and pitch black hair that was already past her shoulders. He smiled, forgetting the whispers from behind the doorway. _This_ was what he was protecting.

Then he heard her scream.

He whipped around, eyes blown wide in panic. _**“Daddy! Help! They’re-Daddy it** **HURTS** **! THEY’RE-”** _ she screams again, louder this time, _**“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME! GET ME OUT OF HERE!”** _Rationally, he knew that wasn’t his daughter. It couldn’t be. 

That didn’t stop him from rushing to the door.

It didn’t stop him from fumbling, trying to pry it open as her screams grew louder.

The door opened. The screams stopped.

And then the darkness rushed forward, and all he could feel was _pain_.

* * *

It was days later— _or was it? He couldn’t be sure_ —but he felt a detached sense of panic, _this wasn’t his body_..but it was. He wasn’t controlling it. Dread pooled in him, he recognized this place. These people. But they weren’t there anymore. In their place, were dead husks. All of them.

Except for one. 

There, in front of him, was _Seraphina_ , his sweet, innocent baby girl. And in his hand— _could he call it his anymore? It certainly didn’t feel like him—_ was a sword. _‘No’_ he desperately thought. _‘It can’t be her..’_ but it was. She smiled, bleary.

“Daddy...i-if you’re in there...I wish that one day, you’ll escape them, and you’ll be happy, and have someone you love, like you did with mommy before sh-she left. I love you, daddy, and I hope you get happy again.” 

The monster— _because surely that couldn’t be him, right? He wouldn’t do this_ —cackled, bringing the sword down. A sickening _thunk!_ was heard as her head whirled and tumbled away, splattering blood atop the grown underneath.

All he could think of, _ask of,_ through the horror and terror inside of him, was _why._

_His little girl was gone._


	2. Chapter 2

Later on, he got out of his daze. The fearlings had less control, so he fought as his brain screamed in agony. They scraped at the walls of his mind, scratching, whispering and screaming, but he blocked it out. If he feared, it would all be over for him.

Eventually, _slowly,_ he came back to his body. His mind felt fractured, heart and brain broken in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine, and for the first time since his daughter was born and his wife— _ex wife_ —left, he cried.

It sounded bitter, and hoarse, and _darker_ , somehow, but he didn’t care. Koz just needed to cry.

He didn’t realize he was moving, or screaming, or roaring past the planets with darkness wrapped around him, _protecting_ him, but he did notice when he tumbled into earth’s orbit, plunging into a world not his own, with strangely colored plants, and creatures with long necks and small eyes running from something with humorously small arms.

And he _definitely_ noticed when he crashed at nearly lightspeed into the planet’s brown floor.

* * *

Kozmotis woke to a strange peace within him, calm and tired. He looked for the strange creatures he saw before, but there weren’t any. All there were, was a few small bushes of some kind, and a large crater, bigger than he could see past. _‘A wasteland,’_ he mused, _‘how fitting that all I can bring, anymore is death.’_

The sky suddenly parted, clouds making way for the bright beams of planet moon. Why is the Tsar here?

It blinked at him, almost..curiously, and a moonbeam touched him. In his mind, the fearlings hissed, and the Tsar seemed to caress him, nearly _fatherly_ and spoke. _“You have made quite the entrance, Kozmotis Pitchiner. Do you feel the darkness within?”_

 _‘Yes, of course, Tsar. Why is it you have made an effort to speak with me?’_ Thought Kozmotis. _“Because, my child, I can give you control of the darkness you fear shall ruin you, and has ruined you. I cannot take them away, but you mustn’t constantly fight them. You’ll go mad.”_

He mulled it over, but there was no better option. Anything was better than constantly fighting.

The Tsar noticed his decision, and spoke with a small smile in his voice. _“I have never created one of you before, however I would think it prudent to mention that this may hurt, or you may feel extremely different once this happens. All you need, dear Pitchiner, is a name for your being as of the transformation.”_

Kozmotis paused. _Pitchiner. Pitch. His daughter’s hair, the blackest he’d ever seen._

_‘Pitch Black.’_

The Tsar’s beam glowed brightly, dancing, reaching at his soul, and he felt like he was being pushed and pulled all at once. He felt different. Pitch’s once tanned, war scarred hands were now smooth and gray, like ash after a fire had burnt out. Nails were long and sharp, like that of an Erinyes but black and wisp-like, as if made by shadows themselves.

Then Pitch looked down, farther than he’d normally. _Hadn’t he been shorter?_ That seemed the least of his concerns, however, as he saw a billowing mass of shadows, running up his body to form a..cloak? And from his previous attire, it brought golden silk, weaving it into the shadows to create small designs like the ones that lined the white walls of his previous homeland. It made him feel sick.

 _“Pitch Black,”_ The moon whispered, _“A guardian, of fear. Protect the humans as you did your daughter, make them fear what will hurt them.”_

With a short, fatherly caress from the moonbeam, the Tsar was gone. Koz-no, _Pitch,_ was hit with a wave of dizziness so prominent he didn’t notice the lack of clawing to his brain.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment any way I could make this work better, and tell me if and where I have typos.


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